I’m feeling old, and I don’t like it.
It’s not physical. It’s mental, meaning it’s all in my head.
My kids are constantly reminding me that I am growing older through their adamant refusal to stop growing up. I have helped one finish four years of college, and now the other son went away so he could gradually grow away from me. My baby is now fourteen and began high school last month.
I’m not complaining, really. I know it was inevitable, and frankly, I enjoy conversing with my young adults. It’s just that high school was only a few years ago, and college was yesterday- in my memories.
It’s the same at work. I remember when I first starting teaching surrounded by the wiser, more experienced (old) teachers.
The next phase of my adult life was beginning. I got engaged and showed off my ring to everyone in the teacher’s lounge. I had a bridal shower and a few years later, a baby shower at school surrounded by women who were in various stages of life. Some were raising families of small children, some had high school and college young adults. A few became grandmas before we all scattered when the school closed.
Now I am the one walking in the lounge, looking at wedding dresses, listening to stories of colicky babies, and toilet training woes.
I smile as I listen, and I remember my own stories, like it was yesterday.